DethloveKlok
by Zandoz
Summary: Judy Explosion returns to Mordhaus after graduating high school. Jealousy, violence and carnage follow in her wake as she struggles to find her own destiny. Plus, a space DethRocket. Nuff said. Please read and respond. Metalocalypse fan fiction.
1. Homecoming

Pickles took another shot of vodka and touched the gift he'd bought for their visitor, due to arrive soon. He hoped she'd like it, it was a custom-built Gibson SG with flames dancing up the fretboard. He was actually starting to feel something other than the usual numbness he felt because of his uber-heavy drinking. Could it be excitement? The slight, wiry man turned when he heard a Klokateer announcing that she'd arrived. Better hurry up!, he told himself.

Murderface was dragging an authentic medieval broadsword through the hall behind him, wearing his normal sour expression, with one exception: a slight affectionate twinkle in the eye. Skwisgaar appeared with a pretty box in a shiny black bow, trying to act inconspicuous which was hard to do for someone 6 foot 6 or so.

Toki was running like an 8 year old with a huge, heavy book in his arms and a pleased look on his childish face, light brown hair streaming behind him. Nathan was standing there when the rhythm guitarist whizzed by. Damn, must be all the candy that kid eats, the singer thought. "Hey, no runnin in the hallways!," he yelled after him in vain. The large man arrived at the reception area using his own plodding gait and found everyone else there, including the expected visitor: His daughter Judy. It had been several months since her last visit, and she was graduating high school now, hence all the gifts.

Jean-Pierre had catered the homecoming superbly, as usual, with a big "Congratulations" cake that was edible this time, but was totally brutal with black and silver frosting. She was admiring it when she spotted her father and bound up to him like she always did, thick ebony hair bouncing, but he noticed something different about her...she was taller, the angles of her face more pronounced, and she'd filled out her gawky frame. The tiny plaid skirt failed to hide strong, shapely legs and a waist that dipped in and flared out in rounded hips. And her fitted top showed off nice, full cleavage...Odin's balls, she was--grown-up!, he thought. Images of dumb jack-offs trying to court her and expensive, metal weddings danced through his brain. Oh no. He hugged her with a sinking heart. What if...oh man what if one of those retards knocked her up? He'd be a Grandpa!

"AAAAgghhh!," came out of him involuntarily.

"Dad?," Judy asked him, pierced eyebrow raised. He was prone to outbursts like that at times, usually when the wheels in his thick skull were attempting to shake off the rust and turn. "Is something wrong?" She observed him with her sharp green eyes.

"Oh, no. Everything's fine," he swallowed the syllables, trying to calm himself.

"Lookit what I gots yous," Toki spoke up. He presented the leather-bound tome to the young woman. "It's a Books of Shadows from the Inskiwishion. Lots of Hail Satans in it!"

"Why thank you, Toki," she said brightly, opening the huge book. She was interested in all things occult, and wore a silver pentacle at her throat and several runic tattoos.

"Opens mine," insists Skwisgaar, ever the prima donna. Judy does so, and peers at the certificate inside. "I buys you patch of land on the Moons. Now yous has outer space real estates, and it's named, too." Laughing she reads that he named it "Judy's Totally Awesome Moon Plots of Metal and Guts".

"That's pretty metal, Skwisgaar," she tells him, and he smiles smugly all over himself.

"I bought you a schword from the Middle Agesh," Murderface chimes in, presenting it to her gallantly. It was sharp, having left a trail where he'd been dragging it through Mordhaus, so she was careful looking at it. "Wow, thanks Murderface. I love it"

"You'd been doin pretty good at guitar lessons, so I had one made for ya," Pickles stepped up next. He too had gotten her a graduation present. Her eyes widened at the beautiful finish on the guitar.

"How zazzy!," she declares, touching the strings lightly. "Aw, you guys are so nice."

"I could ah, teach you how to use that," Ofdensen cuts in, meaning the sword. "I'm quite good at swordfighting. I got you something, as well," he handed her a small package. She opened it and discovered a diamond and platinum spiked bracelet. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Don't forget about my present," rumbles Nathan. "Hold out your hand." His daughter complies, and a set of keys on a skull keychain is dropped into her palm. At her quizzical look, he says, "Look outside the window."

She goes to the window and squeals, "Is that _mine_? Omigod!" A shiny, new motorcycle with an uncanny resemblence to the Murdercycle was sitting in the parkway. "My own Murdercycle!" She ran outside right then to try it out. A few years hadn't dampened her impulsiveness, it seems.

"Wheww, hah," Pickles cleared his throat in the descending silence.

"Nathans, she is...beautiful ladys now," Toki said in awe.

"Totally do's-able," Skwisgaar agrees.

"Damn, she's like my adopted daughter, but she's smokin' hot," Pickles chimes in.

"Ah God, I know!," barks Nathan glumly.

"Well guys, she's almost 18 now," Ofdensen reminds them. "And she's graduating high school." And I would bend her over the Murdercycle and fuck her brains out, he added to himself.

"Sche's a fair damschel," Murderface goes, still stuck in Medieval Mode.

"This sucks. How can I be old enough to have a grown woman as my daughter?"

"Well Nat'an you spilled the ol' seed pretty young, what were you like 16?," Pickles tries to comfort him. "She'll be producin' grandkids for ya to play with in no time!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!," he stomped from the room.

"What did I say?," asked Pickles of the room.


	2. Skwisgaar Effs Up

Judy made a concerted effort of completely tearing up Mordland's backyard. Unlike the band's Murdercycle, hers was more streamlined and lacked th sidecars, but it was brutal nonetheless. Her Viking motorcycle helmet gleamed in the sun as she popped wheelies and yelped in fun. The half-feral yard-wolves chased her, playing, their long red tongues lolling out as they loped after her.

When she tuckered herself out doing that she retired to the house proper, running fingers through wind-tangled raven locks. She spied Pickles watching television in the man rec hall and plopped beside him on the couch. "I really like my present," she says to him.

"Yer welcome," he replies affably.

"Pickles," she clears her throat. "There's something bothering my dad. Do you know what it is?," she looked at him with those emerald puppy dog eyes.

"Uh, well...," he coughed, wondering how severely Nathan would beat his ass for telling her. "He's just...well, feelin' his age. I guess he feels funny havin' you all growed up now."

"But he's not old," she protested. "He was just a kid himself when I was born."

"It's Nat'an we're talkin about, remember? Nuttin about him is logical."

Judy couldn't help but agree with that.

"I think it bothers him that he never graduated high school, either," the red-haired drummer went on.

"He never even got his GED?," she asked.

"Nope. He failed the test when he tried."

"Poor Dad," she murmured. Maybe the failure was really hard on him, she thought.

Skwisgaar's head snapped up from his guitar playing in his room. He was seated on his huge bed and rather confused at the knocking at his door; he hadn't invited any groupies and the band wasn't practicing today. He reluctantly set his guitar aside and went to answer it. "Oh! Hi Judys," he says. He moved aside to let her enter.

"Hey, Skwisgaar, I was wantin' to know if you had the actual coordinates of my land on the Moon. I wanna look at it through Toki's telescope tonight."

"Umm..."

"Do you have the rest of the papers that came with the deed?," she queried.

"Oh, jah, I will gets them," he offers. "You likes my gift, eh?" He went to a dresser and rooted around in a drawer.

She laughs. "Yeah, it's really cool."

"Heres we go," he announces, approaching her and holding out the documents. When she reached for them he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "Yous sly little skunks," he said mirthfully, apparently meaning 'minx'. "I knows why you comes to my rooms."

"Wh-what?," Judy says, surprised.

He bends his face closer, voice husky. Cornsilk blond hair hung close to her face. "Yous a womans now. A very beautifuls one. An availsables one." A deft hand slid her blouse over her shoulder, nearly baring her left breast.

"Skwisgaar, stop. You can't be serious," she was beginning to get a little alarmed now. She went to pull away, and he held her wrist.

"You playing hards to gets, or what?," he huffed. He raised the other hand to touch her hair and her free fist shot out and slammed into his cheek. The force was such that the tall, lanky man's body was thrust back and he saw bright lights for a couple minutes afterward.

"Oww..," was all he could say immediately after the piledriving punch, holding his burning cheek.

"Ohh...Skwisgaar, oh my," the young woman breathed, shocked at her own strength.

"Hey Skwisgaar," came Nathan's voice, and the sound of his heavy booted steps grew louder. "I was gonna see if you wanted some Chinese food--," he poked his black-haired head into the room and stopped. He looked from the moaning, addled Skwisgaar to his disheveled daughter, shirt pulled down on one side, looking terrified. "What the fuck is goin on?," he bellowed.

"Dad, I...he..," Judy gulped.

"Scandinavian son of a bitch, I'm gonna rip your lungs out!," Nathan roared, moving his bulk at an amazing speed toward the tottering lead guitarist.

"Nathans, wait! It's not what you thinks--," and all breath went out of the man as the Mack truck known as Nathan Explosion plowed into him. The blond man threw up his arms in an attempt at defense, as big fists rained down up his face and upper body. During a break in the assault Skwisgaar put his own bony fist in Nathan's nose, using the opening to squirm out from under the frontman and scramble to his feet. He kneed Nathan in the face and got two vise-like hands around his throat.

"Stop it! Dammit, stop!," Judy cried. Her shouts brought the other members of Dethklok out like bloody entrails enticed hyenas to a fresh kill.

"Fight!," cackled Pickles.

"Wowee, dis better than the WWE," Toki said.

"I wanna see blood!," crowed Murderface. He began whooping like he was watching a high school football game.

Somehow Skwisgaar ended up in the floor on his belly with Nathan sitting on his back, a meaty forearm around his neck pulling up on his head. It was kinda like a wrestling match, after all. Skwisgaar was kicking and gurgling, more and more stress being put on his neck and back. Finally his hand connected with his guitar, and snatching it (with some hesitation) brought it up and the body of the instrument crashed into Nathan's face. It sounded like "Blloooowwwaannnggggg," as it connected with flesh and bone. When the guitar clattered to the floor a broken tooth followed, and Nathan was completely motionless, his eyes glassy.

"Ish he dead?," Murderface asked. It would be so totally metal if he was.

Gravity decided to take a stand and sent Nathan's massive frame to the floor. Skwisgaar rolled him off himself, muttering "Shit. What the fucks. Oh, Thor's beard. Did I kills him? Whoa." He stood and took a step. He didn't know Nathan's fingers had curled around his ankle and gave a yank when the guitarist went to take another step.

Skwisgaar faceplanted, and didn't move for a moment. Slowly, painfully Nathan got to his feet, picked up the damaged guitar and raised it high above his head, and when he went to bring it down upon his opponent he found he couldn't. Huh. That's funny. He turned his head to see Judy holding onto the head of the guitar.

"No, Dad. I won't let you."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it was all a misunderstanding. Skwisgaar didn't hurt me, I actually hurt him. So put the damn guitar down."

"Awww," went the other three guys in unison.

"Really? Truly?," Nathan demanded.

"Yeah," she answered. Her father let go of the guitar/weapon and she threw it on Skwisgaar's bed, out of his reach. "C'mon Dad," she goes on. "We better get you and Skwisgaar to the infirmary."


	3. Sugar High and the IDEA

"Yeah," she answered. Her father let go of the guitar/weapon and she threw it on Skwisgaar's bed, out of his reach. "C'mon Dad," she goes on. "We better get you and Skwisgaar to the infirmary."

Nathan's appearance was rather comical with his tooth broken off. Even Judy, who'd been quite worried over his condition, could barely keep from snickering. An appointment with an orthodontist was made, but it wasn't until the next day, which left a whole day for the rest of Dethklok to poke fun.

While the singer was having his head x-rayed Judy sat down alone beside Skwisgaar, who was holding an ice pack on his swelling cheek. "Yous not gonna hits at me again, are yous?," he asked irritably.

"Not if you don't try sexually assaulting me again," she retorted, eyes flashing.

"Ah," he cleared his throat. "I's sorries about dat. Yous not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm ok. Just shook up."

"Maybes," he swallowed. Maybes I deserve dis," he pointed at his face. It was difficult for the egotistical guitarist to admit he was wrong. "I didn'ts deserves assbeatings from dumb Nathans though. He is like whole footballs team runnings over you." Judy giggled. "You...ah...you forgives me?," he ends softly.

"I forgive you," she responds at last.

"I hates this dildoes stitches," Skwisgaar griped. His face had to be sewn up in several places due to the blows he'd recieved via Nathan Explosion. Just then the Mordhaus head doctor entered the room, studying charts.

"Hey Doctor," calls Judy. "How's my Dad doing?"

"Well, he's got a concussion, bruises, a split lip and a broken tooth," the hard-pressed physician answers. "But he'll be fine. Just make sure he doesn't exert himself too much. Keep him quiet."

Skwisgaar and Judy looked at one another. Yeah, that'll surely happen, said their faces.

"I gots new candies," Toki exclaimed proudly. "Boxes and boxes! Have some," he proffered his bowl of candy to the young lady.

"Mmm," she went. "This is great!," she said. They ate the whole bowl and then went in search of the cook Jean-Pierre for more sweets. The sewn-together-badly head chef cheerfully presented a triple chocolate fudge cake, which the pair demolished. They sat in the food preparation area, licking chocolate off their fingers. "What's you wanna do's now?," queried Toki. He was on a serious sugar rush.

"Let's go jam, I wanna try out my new guitar."

"Great ideas! That's the one Pickle got you. It's rockamoli!"

The playmates went to Toki's room and plugged their instruments into spare amps. Soon they were interweaving melodies, taking turns soloing. The woman was improving all the time, and could match the majority of what the Norwegian threw at her.

"Yeesh," he mock-complained. "You's getting too good."

"I still have a long ways to go before I'm as fast as you," Judy deferred, taking off her guitar.

"Hey, let's go play DDR," Toki suggests, unplugging his guitar. He bumped into her as they made for the door, and she playfully pushed him back. Hyped up on sugar they were soon giggling and shoving each other aside. In her happiness she threw her arms around his head, their eyes level. She was tall and substantial, having already surpassed poor Pickles in heighth and breadth her last growth spurt.

Toki's arms went around her waist and then he was breathing in the scent of her hair, and he could feel her heart beating. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. "I missed you," she said softly, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I--uh--missed you too," Toki stammered, disconcerted at this display of affection. "Oh, uh, sorries," he mumbled when they pulled apart after what seemed like decades. After the spontaneous gesture they were both shy and a bit embarrassed. She wasn't a groupie or hanger-on, she was his fun-filled buddy.

Wasn't she?

"Let's go feed the yard wolves," she suggests.

"Jah! Better put on the arm and shin guards, they play roughs."

"I wanna shee!," complained Murderface, waiting for his turn to look through the telescope.

"Hold on a minute, Murderface," admonishes Nathan. "Wow. That's really cool, having your own land on the Moon." He moved out of the way to let the bassist peer through it. "You know what'd be really metal? If we played a concert. Right there. On the Moon."

Silence. All the members of the band stared at Nathan.

"That's the most awesome thing I've ever heard," said Pickles, green eyes wide.

Skwisgaar and Toki glanced at each other, excitement on their features. "Space Vikings," they spoke in unison.

The next band meeting: Ofdensen sitting at the head of the table, his nondescript face's expression ranging from total disbelief and exasperation as Dethklok informed him of their plan.

"Let me get this straight," he began, looking at each of them in turn. "You want to hold a concert on the Moon, on Judy's land. Nonwithstanding the, heh, astronomical price of such an endeavor, who would you play to? It's in outer space."

"Well see, we thought about that," Nathan responds triumphantly. "We could like have a drawing of Dethklok fanclub members, and the lucky ones would have their own, like, space module thingy floatin' around watchin' us play. Everybody else would have to pay like 2 million dollars to see it."

"Is that per person?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Uh huh," and you could see the wheels in Ofdensen's crafty mind turning. "Hmmm," he went after a moment. "We may be able to do that."

"Oh, and Off? We gotta have some big fuckin lasers."

"Uhh..."

"A big motherfuckin' laser light show."

"I want a lightshaber," chimes in Murderface.

"And I wants my space helmet to has Viking horns on it."

"I wants a candy dispensers in my spacesuit!," pipes up Toki.

Ofdensen sighs. "Whatever."

"Sweet," Nathan smirks.


	4. Nathan, Smart?

"According to our latest sources, Nathan's daughter Judy Explosion has returned to Mordhaus," Senator Stampingston was relaying to the rest of the Tribunal. "She's graduating high school and will no doubt be going off to college soon."

"Do you think the ADK's will try something again? What with a prime target being so close?," Vater Orlaag, the long-bearded member, asked.

The ADK's, or Anti-Dethklok League, had vowed to destroy the band for the good of the world. Their death metal and brutal ways was seen as a danger to the public, their hold on the minds of millions of young people begging to be broken. They were similiar to the old Revengencers, but the ADK's were a widespread, even more secretive network of anti-fans bent on Dethklok's destruction. Self-righteousness sufficed instead of simple revenge for these souls.

"We could play the ADK's and Dethklok against each other," volunteered Crozier. It was well-known what his feelings on Dethklok were.

"I should like to see what they all do next," says Selacia, the man who headed their meetings. "What will be, will be."

His was always the final word on the matter.

Murderface and Dick Knubbler were mixing the latest release by Planet Piss, the bassist's side project. Or trying to, at least. The producer, Knubbler, had lost his eyes in an underwater incident and now had bionic implants, which observed in differing directions at once like a chameleon. Suddenly Judy popped up beside Murderface, startling him.

"Agghhh!," he cried. "Where'd you come from?"

"Hahaha," she laughed, nudging him. "Just wanted to try my hand at recording something."

"What? _You_?," Murderface snorted. "We're bischy with Planet Pissh."

"Well, we're not makin' any more progress with this song right now, William. Mebbe coming back to it later would help. I'd like to see what the kid's got," countered Knubbler.

"Cool! I brought my guitar. Could I warm up a bit first?," said the woman excitedly.

"Whatever you like," answered Knubbler in his nasally voice.

"Aww, dammit," Murderface groused.

The young woman plugged in, adjusted her strap, took a deep breath, and began. She started with some slow, easy licks and power chords, causing Murderface to roll his eyes in disdain, then grew faster. More melody, faster, then bending notes and wrenching out blasts of feedback that seemed to fit into the guitar tapestry she was building. Murderface's eyebrows raised as she picked up more speed, finishing with a deep, low clang that rang out in the studio.

She was no Skwisgaar or Toki, but she was damn good.

"That was really good," Knubbler praised. "You have some talent. A little green, though."

"Not bad," was all Murderface could say.

"Would ya like to, ah, maybe lay down a couple guitar tracks for this Planet Piss song? Something about it is buggin' me," the producer asked her.

"Oh, wowee!," she beamed.

"That's it," Knubbler snapped his fingers. "It's Toki's guitar work on that song. Makes it sound too much like a Dethklok song. Now you want your own identity, don't ya William?"

"Mm, yeah," he admitted.

"Well she's good, not experienced and not fast like Skwisgaar, but she can make it shine. See? Everybody wins!"

Murderface sighed, stabbing his chair with his dagger. "Movin right in my territory. Women," he huffed.

"I heard that!," she said from the recording booth.

"Can ya hear this?," he flipped her the middle finger.

"Well can YOU hear THIS?," and she turned around and dropped her leather miniskirt and mooned him. When she straightened and pulled her skirt back up both men were speechless. Knubbler's electronic eyes were still processing what he just witnessed.

"That was the mosht shexy, metal thing I've ever seen a chick do," Murderface choked out. "It's like...if Nathan was a chick, that's what he'd be like. Totally BADASSED."

"Ahh," went Knubbler.

"Now everytime I see Nathan I'm gonna see her cute ass. This schucks. Now I'm like, gay or shomething. Well, lay your guitar tracks down, chickie-roo, I'll be in the bathroom schittin. And jackin off." And with that Murderface got up and left the studio.

"Eww," said a disgusted Judy.

"Nathan, since this whole thing is based upon your idea, I thought I'd let you go over the space modules and the moon layout in particular," Ofdensen was telling Nathan, who was starting to get that zoned-out look. "We've got some NASA engineers, astrophysicists, and an art director." Three people entered the conference room, and Nathan could've cared less but after the first two stiffs a tall blue-haired woman followed them. She was tall, long-legged, with deep dark eyes and black lipstick, carrying a clipboard of some of her ideas for the aesthetics of the equipment.

"I'm sorry, what was her name?," cut in Nathan

"This is Miss Katrina Tate," answered an irritable Ofdensen. "She designed Dethklok's last album cover."

"Great, thanks," said Nathan, who dumbly looked over several drawings and schematics that the three had been collaborating on, and approved some particularly brutal choices.

Lucifer's ass, she was...dark, harsh and brutal, like him! Uh oh, down, lil Nathan.

The next day he decided to call the number on her card.

"Hello?," she asked.

"Uh, hi, this is, yeah, Nathan Explosion," he began.

"Oh, hi!," she said brightly. "How can I help you?"

"Well, you see I had some more idea on the rocket ship, and I was wondering...would you like to discuss it...like, over dinner.." he ended lamely.

"Well, let me check my datebook..I dunno, I'm a busy girl...DUH! Sure I will, where do you wanna meet?"

"Really?"

"Yeah! You're Nathan Explosion, man!," she laughed, but it wasn't flirty or slutty like he was used to getting. No, this was more playful and friendly. He liked that. Argh, down, lil Nathan!

Nathan decided to play the gentleman and let Katrina pick where she wanted to eat. Of course it had to be a big expensive fancy foo-foo place, he groaned when the Dethbus pulled up to it. Oh well, that's college-educated know-it-alls for you, he thought wickedly. He brought his own clipboard this time, he thought smugly--he was a billionaire, and he was pretty smart. Ok, sometimes he was. The place had exceedingly good service, the frontman had to admit, and all it took was waving a fistful of cash to get the whole place scurrying.

The totally expected French waiter asked them what they would like to order, and Katrina looked over the menu carefully before ordering the most food he'd ever seen a chick eat in front of a guy. She could probably out-digest Judy, he chuckled to himself. Then it was his turn. He didn't understand most of the dishes described on the menu, oh shit, umm, "I want something that used to be alive, preferably beef. I want lots of it, and don't cook it too long. And bring me some booze." The patient waiter pointed his suggestion out on the menu, and Nathan grunted his affirmation.

"Merci, m'sieur and mademoiselle," he said briskly, taking their order to the chef.

Katrina laughed, and he turned to her, thinking she was making fun of him. "You're not what I expected."

"What's that supposed to mean?," he wondered, thinking expecting somebody smarter?

"To be such a star you haven't really changed that much, have you? I mean, you don't try to be something you're not. You're genuine."

"Oh," he rolled this over his brain. "Thanks."

"Sooo..you had some more things to show me?," she asked, leaning forward expectantly. She was dressed in a nice pinstriped pantsuit, with a tight top under the jacket which exposed a little cleavage. She had a tattoo of a flaming heart on one breast, he couldn't help but notice, and wondered what other tattoos she had, and where.

"Uhm, yeah, this is what I came up with," and he handed her the clipboard.

"Hmm," she went, perusing the different drawings and descriptions. "Huh...this is very good..."

"Really?," he let out a breath.

"I love the sharp angles on the Dethklok rocket, and the logo on it is different too. I like it."

"You do?," he was surprised.

"The rear part may not work, have to ask the engineers about the engines, but this is very metal. It's totally Dethklok!" She handed the clipboard back to him, smiling.

"You're not just saying that? Just because I'm Nathan Explosion?"

"No, that's why you're paying me, remember? To root out bullshit and make everything look good. So did you take drafting in college?"

"No," he looked away. "I never went to college."

"No shit? You should have, those schematics were damn good. Is this a hobby of yours?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Don't tell any of the guys, though--I'd never live it down."

She gave him a puzzled look, then shook her blue-haired head. "You guys are so weird."

"So are you," he quipped back. "Going to a business meeting in blue hair and a nosering."

"All this, AND witty too!," she cackled. "Everyone lock up yer daughters!"

Damn, he could never tell if she was serious or teasing him. She was certainly different; funny, brutally honest, talented, and hotter than seven Hells. Plus she thought he was smart! His ego started to swell.

Oh, I bet you guys think this is the part where they profess their undying lust for each other and go have hot, steamy sex on the Dethbus or the hot tub or both, and she becomes his girlfriend and road wife and and la-dee-freakin-dah, but no you pervs. It ain't that kind of story. Ok, maybe it is a bit, but I'm not gonna play your voyeuristic little games, ha!

No indeed, what they did was eat their expensive lunch, Nathan watching Katrina put away a salad, a dozen rolls, some soup, a whole lobster, several vegetables, and a slice of pie, along with several glasses of the fine wine Nathan (sort of) asked for. Nathan ate his medium-rare dead bovine muscle tissue with a hella lot of A-1 steak sauce since he didn't think to bring his Explosion Sauce. Plus he drank the rest of the bottle and asked for another one and dove into that like there was no tomorrow. He also had his boot flask, pocket flask, and down-in-his-pants super-hidden flask, which he shared with the woman.

"Whew...Nathan, I think I'm a bit tipsy," Katrina giggled. "I think I should call a cab.."

"Naw, don't do that," Nathan said, then burped. "You gotta make copies of my ideas, so come on back to Mordhaus. Hey, we could pal around or somethin, too."

"Ah ah, no fraternizing with your employer," she slurred, wagging her finger at him. "It isn't professsshional."

"It'll be plat--platin--platonic, I promise," Nathan told her. "Completely..uh..hands-off."

"Well," she snorted. "I GUESS I could let you take me there, I mean, how many art directors get invited to Mordhaus? But no funny business!"

"Got it. 'Lots of funny business,'" he says into his voice recorder.

"You are so wrong," she says, getting up to go with him.

The pair were singing Frank Sinatra (don't ask me why) songs and stumbling through the hall, Nathan somehow ending up with a third bottle of the ultra-expensive wine, and Skwisgaar met them on his way to his room. "What are yous doing, Nathans? Ah, times for some s-c-e-x-x as Toki calls it?"

"Shut up, Skwisgaar," Nathan hiccups. "This is Katrina, the art director chick. She's helping to make our badassed rocketship."

"Hies," Skwisgaar says, sizing her up. Nope, too young and too skinny, he thought, and dismissed her from his Fuck List. "Just a bits of warnings," he tells her conspiratorially, "If he wants to fetch his bottle of Explosion Barbecues Sauce and a turkey baster, just tells him no." He winked and continued on his way.

"What was that all about?," questioned Katrina.

"Uhhh, nothin'," Nathan says.


	5. Hot Tub Friends

"Hey, hey check this out," he said, taking out his Dethphone and texting 'hey. do u kno who this is?' to Pickles, who texted back 'No, who is this?' Nathan was bursting with laughs, and Katrina was laughing at him being so funny to watch. 'This is Nathan,' he messaged back, cackling with mirth and leaning against the wall.

Judy came into sight, rolling her eyes at her dad's drunkenness. "Hey Judy, c'mere," he hailed, large arm draped over his companion's shoulder. His daughter was a shade shorter than the other female but more curvy, with muscled arms and legs whereas Katrina was more wiry and thin.

"Dad, you messing around with the household help again?," she demanded, crossing her arms in front of her. "You know how that always turns out."

"Naw Judy, this is Katrina Tate, the art chick. Katrina, that's my daughter Judy. Careful, she bites."

"Hi," the blue-haired woman hiccups.

"Ohh," breathed Judy. "I'm very sorry," she apologized in her drawl. "You're makin' the spaceships we're going to the moon in, huh?"

"Yes," answered the drunk woman. "It's EPIC. You're very pretty."

"Thanks," the younger woman says, shaking her head. "Well, have fun Dad," she jabs at him playfully. "Nice meetin' you," she smiles at Katrina as she continues on her way.

"Really nice girl," Katrina tells him, swaying. "She looks a lot like you."

"Don't insult the kid!," Nathan jokes.

"Aw, come on now," said Katrina. "You're a good-looking guy." She felt his raven locks fall against her cheek and was surprised at its softness. It was shiny like a crow's wing, and he _was_ handsome, in a rugged, unkempt, metal kind of way.

"Yeah? Then why won't you get into some 'funny business' with me?"

Caught off-guard the woman chuckles nervously. "Well, I didn't say it COULDN'T happen at a future date, just not today."

"Uh huh. I'll remember that."

"Bah, you're way too drunk!"

"Try me, toots. Hey, let's watch tv," he slurs, leading her to the main recreation room. When they flopped onto the couch the singer giggled and got out his Dethphone again. 'hey guess who this is' he texts Ofdensen.

'Could it be Nathan?,' came the response.

"Aww," he groaned, texting 'how did you kno?'

'cause I have you in my contacts as Nathan,' Ofdensen pertly texted back.

"Party pooper," grumbled Nathan. 'Off, come get these papers n shit n copy em,' he messages.

'Where u at?'

'rec room. havin sex.'

'TMI, Nathan.'

'Just kiddin' Nathan texts.

A few days later...

The Dethklok members were observing Nathan and Katrina chilling in the hot tob and looking at lolcat pictures online with his laptop. The other members were poking their heads around the corner to keep from being spotted. "Can you believe this?," Pickles hissed. "Why's he bein so nice to her?"

"Jah, he hasn't trieds to bangs her yet," noted Skwisgaar with a toss of his blond hair.

"He's...buddying around with this lady," Murderface says, frowning.

"He never pal-eds around with me likes dat," Toki said sourly.

"Dis is definately weird," declares Pickles in his Yooper dialect. The redhaired, slender man, usually happy-go-lucky, was clearly perturbed.

"I shay we call him on it," says Murderface, and before anyone else could object the heavyset bassist marched into the room. Unsure of what to do, the others followed him.

"Nathan, we need to have a word with you," Murderface announces self-importantly.

"Ok," Nathan says, disinterested.

"Alone."

"Huh?," the frontman looks up, a bit taken aback. "I'm not movin. I'm comfortable."

"Well, I can go and come back later--," Katrina begins.

"No," Nathan stops her with one of his searing looks. "You're not going anywhere. We're palin' around." Katrina looked from Nathan to the rest of the band, wondering what was going on.

"All rights, fine," hisses Skwisgaar. "We thinks yous getting to close to that ladys."

"I'm sorry, we're not dating," Katrina puts in. "What's the problem?"

"Yeah, she's not my girlfriend," Nathan says smugly. They couldn't get him like they did when he was seeing Rebecca.

"You wouldn'ts lets me pal around with Dr. Rockso," Toki reminded him, dark blue eyes narrowing.

"Well, he's a clown. And that's not metal," argued the singer. "Plus he's annoying. Are you saying Katrina's a clown and she's annoying?"

"No," admitted Murderface. "But you hang out with her all the time."

"And she drinks. A lot," Pickles adds.

"And she's...really funs," says Skwisgaar, his wide-cheekboned face puzzled.

"She's fun to talk tos," agreed Toki.

"Oh Jeesh," Murderface slaps his forehead. "We like her!"

"Yeah, we want her to be OUR buddy, too!," the drummer realizes.

"Then go ahead!," shouts Nathan.

"But she'sh a gurl," Murderface shouts back.

"Judy's a girl," the singer points out. "And you guys hang around her."

"She's your daughter," Skwisgaar tells him, "Which mean she's like familys. Uh, the kinds you wants to be around."

"You're all being fuckin weird right now," Nathan complains. "You sure you guys don't wanna date or fuck her?"

"No!," they all shout in unison.

"Ooh, you're buddy jealous," Katrina speaks up. "Jealous of your bandmante having a different friend."

They all stared at her.

"Don't be like that. We can all be friends! Come on, come get in the hot tub," she beckons to them.

"There's no clothes in the hot tubs," Toki reminds the room.

"I'm not wearing any," Katrina counters, standing to her full impressive height. The complainers got to see the full flaming heart tattoo, a tattoo of barbed wire surrounding her belly button along with her taut, glistening flesh. Nathan got a good view of the tattoo on her butt cheek which read "Kiss this."

The other members were shedding garments like mad in their haste to get into the hot tub. "Wowee," said Toki with gusto, crowding beside her. Katrina raised an eyebrow; Toki was damn buff to be no larger than what he was.

"Havin' a girl-buddy is AWESOME," declares Pickles. "Specially in the hot tub."

"Here I come!," rang a familiar voice. Like a flash a naked Judy appeared and hit the hot tub running, splooshing everyone hither and thither.

"Umm..," went Nathan, turning red. "I feel funny sitting naked in water with my grown daughter."

"Oh...hi Dad," Judy waved sheepishly. "I didn't know you was here."

"Who were you planning to get in the hot tub with, nude?," he asked.

"I heard Toki's voice and I was gonna get in..with him...," she trailed off.

It was Toki's turn to blush. "You've been hottubbing alone with her," he snarled at the rhythm guitarist.

"We nots be doin nothings," he protested. "Just internettings and maybes the snuggles--"

"Aw, God," Nathan yelled. "You guys sure know how to ruin a man's day."

"Well, she's a grown woman," Katrina spoke up. "And I'm here now to keep an eye on things," she winked at the younger woman, who smiled back.

Toki was happy he was between two hawt ladies.


	6. Dethrocket and Sexyklok

Ok here's the experimental gratuitous sexytime scene. If you're angelic and pure of mind like I am (hahaha yeah right) then please skip over this chapter cause you may be offended. It also has gratuitous cuteness, too--but I still tried to keep Nathan in-character. Let me know how I did.

* * *

The day had finally come: Dethklok was being ushered to the super-secret Dethrocket launch site to put the final approval on everything and go through a safety brief. Nathan in particular was asked to give the final ok on the design, and arrived a bit early with the engineers and Katrina in tow. Everything had that sterile, otherworldly look and feel to it, and he normally hated it, but he was rather..well..._proud_ he'd had something to do with this whole thing's construction. At the base of the massive rocket he craned his thick neck looking up, up, up. It was ebon, stark black trimmed in silver, the newly-designed (Nathan-designed) Dethklok logo emblazoned on the body in scarlet. Swept-back fins were sharp and dangerous, making the interstellar vehicle appear like it would slice through the very air.

"Wow," was all the Dethklok singer could say, green eyes bulging. "It's...so metal."

"Yeah," agreed Katrina softly. "You had a hand in that. Incredible, huh?"

It dawned on him this was the first thing in years he'd done spectacularly besides death metal. It was a powerful thought. He looked at her with an expression of wonder. "It's the most brutal thing I've ever been a part of. Holy shit." He gazed at her a moment. "I have this weird feeling. I thought it was..yanno, in my pants. But it's all through me..." He hated trying to express himself at times, he always felt stupid and unmetal.

"Why Nathan Bigshot," she chuckled at him. "You could be falling in love."

"With the rocket?"

"Nooo," she snorted at him, rolling her dark eyes.

"With YOU?" She raised an eyebrow at him in response. "Huh," he mumbled. "But I like you too much."

This time she laughed, not caring if the scientists or whover was there saw. "I like you too much, too," she declared, putting her lips on his. "Now shut up you big goofball and take me back to your room before liftoff."

Ok now here's the totally nonmetal part where they go do stuff reserved for those romance novels and sleazy smutty movies and all that. No poetry spouting or birds singing or bunny rabbits happily frolicking in the misty wood, this IS about a metal band, remember? And not just any metal band but THE metal band, Dethklok!

...

You guys really wanna hear about Nathan getting laid, don't ya? Well, you can cram all thoughts of him talking sexy to her whilst doing the deed or having loving pillow talk, or wanting to whisk her away to some palace in the sky or castle in the sand, up your ass. He's not a Neanderthal or anything, mind you...oh all right. I'll just have to screw myself up to do this.

Who am I kiddin? I'm a dirty, dirty girl! BWAHAHAHAH!!

Nathan flicked on the light in his room aboard the Dethcopter and closed the door behind him and his guest. He was suddenly cursed with outrageous cottonmouth looking at Katrina, who was smiling warmly at him. Ok Nathan, stop thinking, he told himself. You're not that great at it. He went for her like he was going for the touchdown (well he was, I suppose), pinning her against the wall beside the door with his large frame and smothering her face with kisses. She undid her button-up shirt in the midst of the passion frenzy, peeling his t-shirt off him. Nathan had a brief moment of self-consciousness at his soft middle, due to the fact he liked her and cared about what she thought about him. Huh. That's strange. He never cared before. Oh well, time to get Lil Nathan in gear.

They were soon naked and rolling around on his huge bed when Nathan halted, looking down at Katrina. "Wait..uh..."

"What is it?," she asked, troubled.

"Well...um...I don't wanna...ahhh, I don't want to have any more kids. Not that I don't like havin Judy around, but yeah."

"Ohhh," she breathed. "I brought Dethkondoms," she giggled. "Spike studded, for your pleasure." She put his hand on her small, firm breast which spurred him on.

What she remembered about that first time was the curtain of black hair which seemed to envelop her when he was on top, and the sound of his breathing which was the only noise aside from her occasional squeals and exclamations. He wasn't very vocal during sex, she found, but his face dropped its normally guarded expression. He wasn't a suave Valentino, but was kinda sweet, more than she expected from someone like him. Little did she know it was the highest compliment he could've paid to her--many of the groupies and hangers-on ended up manhandled and ordered around, then locked outside his door. Sometimes without their clothes if he was feeling particularly nasty. Nathan had mostly contempt and disdain for most of them, who basically wanted any excuse to brag to friends and on their blogs they fucked the brutal Nathan Explosion. A lot had hardly listened to any of Dethklok's music; they only knew he was FAMOUS, and that was all that mattered.

He finally uttered a piercing "FUCK YEAH!," as he climaxed, then collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat. She'd had three orgasms of her own so she was happy, cradling his raven head in the crook of her arm.

"Ok, get out," he grumbled.

"Huh?," she said, groggy from the lovemaking.

"Oh, sorry. Reflex."

"You asshole."

"Sorry! I was half asleep. I'm hungry. Thirsty too." He got up and slipped into his pants (freeballing today!) and glanced over his shoulder at her, smiling wickedly.

Now he was teasing _her_. Well, he was Nathan Explosion.


	7. Pushy Women and Angry Nathan

Hundreds of people managed to find their way to the top-secret launch site of the Dethklok rocket, and more found the places where the fan rockets would be launched as well. It was a veritable three-ring-circus and Ofdensen had his hands full with the security and other last-minute details. He was ever suave and smooth, even that time he had to try on a spacesuit during a safety brief and everyone else laughed at him. A brilliant study in grace and efficiency, he was never unruffled, even when a guy showed up at the launch site with enough TNT to blow them all sky high strapped to himself. He was caught, disarmed, and put in the reinforced pit to have a rocket barbecue. He would be less than ash in T-minus 40 seconds. That made Off's wide mouth twitch ever so slightly into the faintest of grins. It was times like these he loved his job.

The members of Dethklok crowded around the viewscreens to get a good look of the liftoff--the ground grew farther and farther away, everything receding faster and faster. The two females were just as ruthless in their bid for a good view, elbowing the men out of the way.

"Wowee," breathed Judy and Toki together.

"Hey guys," came Pickles' chipper voice. "I just thought o' somethin. We're the first metal band in space! That's the shit!"

"Yeah!," Nathan agreed. He LOVED BEING MOTIVATED. "That's awesome! And we're truckin' our audience to the fuckin Moon!"

"And if we meet anything livin' on the Moon we're gonna kill it!," crowed Murderface.

"YEAH!," Nathan was sweating like a gorilla now in his enthusiasm. "WE'RE REALLY DOIN' IT!"

"Woo hooo!," yelled Judy and Katrina.

"Whys are we yellings?," asked Skwisgaar, guitar strapped to him as usual.

"Cause we loves beings motivatedals?," asked Toki.

"This thing have laschers?," asked Murderface, hazel eyes twinkling with anticipated mayhem.

"Oh yeah," answered Nathan. "We made sure of that. OH GAWD I FORGOT ABOUT THE LASERS! HOLY SHIT!," he panted, getting worked up again.

"I called it firsht!," shouted Murderface, heading for the Control Room. "I wanna schoot asteroids like in the video game, only it'll be for real!"

"Shit on a brick, I'm comin too!," Nathan said as he hurried after the bassist.

"Time for bong hits," declared Pickles, producing a Led Zeppelin bong and a bag of what appeared to be a whole pound of weed. "Gonna trip balls on this space trip."

"I wants to has my full facoolties whiles in spacetimes," says Skwisgaar. Really he was afraid of marijuana slowing down his incredibly fast hands when playing guitar.

"You shoulds lives a little," scoffs Toki, taking a good long hit when it was passed to him.

"You shoulds practice more and goof offs less," he jabs back. "Then maybes you won't always be second fastest guitarist.

"You worlds biggest dumb-dick jackoff asshole, shoulds be proud of yourself," sniffed Toki, coughing. "Heyyy dis some good stuff, Pickle."

"Well yous only second biggest dumb-dick asshole jerkoffs whatever you say it," Skwisgaar shoots back.

"Jah and your moms is da sluts. She what the Irish calls an aul' hooerbag."

"Toki, I has to kill you now. Youse offended my honors," Skwisgaar removed his guitar and started toward Toki who was merely laughing at him.

"Boys," warned Offdensen, sensing the tension. "We'll have to set up for the concert right after touchdown on the Moon, and I don't want any of you hurting each other or yourselves." Skwisgaar sat back down, glowering at Toki. "Is that...pot?," Ofdensen asked.

Judy was holding the bong, eyes wide as the CFO looked round at all of them. "Ahhh," the girl stammered. "Maybe?"

"Jah maybe the robots should smoke some, might makes you more cooler," Skwisgaar taunted Ofdensen.

"Guys, I'm at an astounded lack for words," he said in his clipped voice. He left the room seething.

Six pairs of eyes silently observed as Nathan and Murderface raced happily through the passageway, completely oblivious. The eyes belonged to six leather-clad, impossibly armed and beautiful women. The eyes of the leader of the group were dark as the Abyss and she was much deadlier. Her name was Lavena Succuboso and her Squad had one purpose--kill Nathan Explosion, but only after extracting his sperm in order to spawn a race of supermen to take over the world with. Lavena had decided she wanted to have her way with him a bit first, if time permitted. She smiled at the thought--her perfect Cupid's-bow, red-painted lips curling up.

She turned to the girl next to her, a tall shapely blonde with a beehive hairdo. "You still set on your own plan?," she asked in her purring Italian accent.

"Yes, Mistress," answered the other.

"Then don't waste my Dust; use it well. It's taken me years to perfect the formula."

"I know, Lavena. But not even Ofdensen will be able to resist my charms now, the blond asserts.

"Then good luck to you, Lila, my sister. I expect you to rendezvous at the appointed time and place. Good hunting."

"Good hunting," the blonde repeated back.

The remaining five femme fatale agents continued to stalk Nathan.

At the same time another faction was making their move, hacking into the computer system and learning

all they could of the advanced machinery. It was nine kinds of difficult planting Anti-Dethklok agents in the different ships and modules, along with providing for members to be in the audience at strategic points. Two million American dollars per fan is a lot of currency to raise, after all.

Dennis made a last-minute communication to his commander via a disguised watch. He was the leader of this endeavor and wanted to be sure nothing went wrong. "Everything's in place, Commander. We're just waiting for the right time."

"Good. That's great. I'll give you the signal," came the response in the form of a bland, clipped voice filled with hidden menace. Dennis switched off, brushing a lank strand of blond hair from his sweaty forehead.

Ofdensen was seated before an array of screens and readouts, sipping coffee. He coordinated much of the security and normal running of the Dethrocket while experienced and highly-paid NASA workers and pilots actually steered its course through space. Something catches the slender man's eye--a silent motion alarm going off indicating an intruder. How? Where?, he thought, and the hair on the back of his neck raised. He whirled in the swivel chair to see a gorgeous blonde approaching.

"How the hell?," he wondered, tripping the silent alarm. Nothing happened.

The strange woman laughed. "I'm not stupid," she told him, her manner of speaking similar to his. "It's already disabled."

"And the guards outside?"

"Out of the way," she smirked. "I know you, Charles Foster Ofdensen, CFO and manager of Dethklok, age 42, currently single," she recited. "Five feet, eleven inches tall, IQ near-genius level. Exactly what I've been looking for," she smiled almost sweetly at him.

"Hope you had an enjoyable search," he chipped the words out of ice. "Because it has sadly ended," he lunged for her just as she raised her wrist-guard and discharged some kind of chemical or particles, which she blew in his face. This brought him up short, he assuming the material was mace or something like it. He shook his head and blinked after he got a lungful.

"Cupid's Dust," she explains. "Highly concentrated pheromone compound. Designed to incite unbearable desire in men for the next female they see. Also a bit of something extra to make one more open to suggestion. So relax, my dear," she stepped closer, unzipping her vest.

Rubbing his eyes Ofdensen gazed at Lila, feeling his unshakable control slipping. His vision became cloudy and he felt like he was moving underwater. The woman's beauty seemed to grow and intensify, and a burning, aching sensation spread out from his loins. The only cure for this painful lust, his brain told him, is to give her what she wants. It would be so easy. Nostrils flaring he charged her again, this time tackling a surprised Lila into a computer kiosk. "Ooof!," she went, then elbowed the man's side to make him release her.

"But--but it never fails!," she exclaimed, ducking punches and kicks. He had been slowed by the Cupid's Dust but he rained blow after blow upon her. A kick sent her sprawling to the floor and she managed to douse Ofdensen with another dose. He halted again, shaking his head, addled.

His grey eyes dilated, then he took a step back, mouth hanging slack.

"Finally," Lila says, getting to her feet. "How do you feel, Charles?"

"Good...I feel good," he murmurs, unable to act as he wished.

The blonde took his arm and led him back to the control board. She soon felt a hand around her neck, fingers like metal bands. With some effort she pulled his hand away and slipped it under the vest to cup a full, round breast. "My, your persistent," she declares, removing his glasses from his twitching face.

"I'll kill you," he tells her matter-off-factly.

"I know you want to," she says softly, licking his ear. "But first, you're gonna do something for me. I want you to donate your sperm personally," she blew into his ear, sending chills all over him.

Meanwhile Toki put his lips on Judy's, his arms going around her waist. One moment they'd been joking with Pickles and Katrina and passing around the sacred Led Zeppelin bong, the next they were in each other's arms on the couch. "Damn," snorted Pickles. This must be some horny weed."

"Jah it's getting too hots in her fors me," Skwisgaar says, gets up and departs.

"Hey Toki," called Pickles. "I thought you was into redheads?"

"Not into yous, Pickle. Sorry," Toki replied after finally coming up for air.

"Ah, that hurts," he says sarcastically, downing another beer. "But, Toki my friend, that's you-know-who's daughter yer sucking face with."

"Guys, stop talking like I'm not in the room," Judy scolds.

"They're young and they have hormones," Katrina puts in. "Surely you remember what that was like?"

"Unfortunately I do," he concedes. "And don't call me Shirley."

The young pair nuzzled for a minute until Katrina runs over to Pickles and sits beside him. "Hey, let the more experienced crowd show 'em how it's done," she announces, then grabbed Pickles and dipped the slight man, planting a long, wet, sloppy kiss on him. He was shocked almost to sobriety, and even dropped his fresh beer in the process. Toki and Judy hooted and cheered. When she released him Pickles had stars in his eyes, an almost dreamy expression on his face. "Now that's making out," Katrina said smugly.

"Damn, don't ask me to get up for a while," Pickles laughed. "I got one helluva boner now. But seriously, what's Nat'an gonna say? You know how protective he is. Toki, he's liable to kill ya."

"Nuh uh," refutes Toki. "He knows me, Pickle. I wouldn'ts hurt Judys for the world." He kissed her again.

"Uh, hi Nathan," greets Katrina, noticing him standing in the doorway.

"Well," Nathan growls. "Looks like we're havin a good time. I was gonna see if maybe you wanted to go shoot some asteroids with me with a real laser."

"Dad, we were just--" Judy began.

"You guys fuckin? Cause you should use, like, protection. Shit I have no idea where Toki's been or what diseases he's got."

"Nathans!," Toki fumed. "What, you think I like Skwisgaar? Humping everythings that stands still longs enough?"

"I dunno," the singer shrugged. "I don't want you to knock her up or hurt her. I sure as hell don't want you as a son-in-law!"

The rhythm guitarist's deep blue eyes grew wide at that, his lip trembling. "How...how cans you says such things? I likes you Nathans, and I likes her too! So just deal with it!," he got up and ran sobbing from the room.

"Dad! What the hell is wrong with you?," Judy yelled at him, infuriated. "I can like, love, date, fuck, or kill anybody I want and YOU CAN'T DO NOTHIN' ABOUT IT!"

"Judy, please, Nathan's going about this the wrong way, but don't be like that," Katrina pleads. "Your dad loves you."

"It's not ok! Look at what's happened, who knows if Toki will even play the concert now!," she ran away to look for Toki.

"That went pretty well," hiccuped Pickles, who got a drop-dead look from Nathan.


	8. Fighting, Fucking, and Other Crazy Shit

Ok here's a seriously action-packed, disturbing, pornographic, shocking chapter.

* * *

"Riots broke out all over the civilized world when the names of the Dethklok Space Lottery winners were drawn," announced the male reporter, talking in a calm, candid voice while behind him reigned total mayhem. Looting, beatings and firebombings raged in the background as he reported. "Several unconfirmed murders were perpetrated by jealous, disappointed fans, but on the whole the winners were ushered aboard the luxurious Dethklok-provided spaceliners, along with those non-winners who paid the phenomenal fee to see this historic, once-in-a-lifetime event." Just then a molotov cocktail sailed over the reporter's shoulder and struck the cameraman, who screamed and fell with the tv camera. The picture winked out.

This was on one of the many telescreens in Ofdensen's onboard office/command center, but he wasn't watching it at the moment. He was rather..busy...shall we say, his brain blanketed in a fog, until light reflecting off of something shiny caught his eye. While before he'd been seemingly moving in slow motion, now things jolted back into normal speed as his natural ruthlessness assessed the situation and pushed its way back to the forefront. The knife didn't hit its mark as he twisted to the right and wrapped two vice-grip hands around Lila's neck, still inside her, and flattened her against a monitor with his wiry form.

"Mother--fucker!," she hissed, scrabbling at his arms with one hand and trying to find a way to stab him with the other.

"I...told you...I'd kill you...," he found his voice at last, only now realizing he was fighting and fucking at the same time. The woman's legs tightened around his slim waist to keep him from any room to maneuver, sending a jolt of pleasure to them both. How in the hell...

Lila finally brought her blade up under his defenses and sank it into his side. He sprang backwards, disengaging from her and grasping the hilt of the weapon, yanked it out with a curse. The woman, essentially bare, was splayed across the console coughing, and blood poured out of Ofdensen's gash. Thankfully no major organs were hit that he could tell, but he'd need medical assistance soon. The few remaining clothes he was wearing he tried to rearrange as he tripped the secondary silent alarm, then stalked painfully to Lila, who raised her arm to spray him with Dust once more. He slammed her arm to the keyboard, and clutched at his state-of-the-art portable interspacial transmitter(he'd had made for this specific occasion), and brought it down on her frightened face. Again. Again. And again.

The next impact she felt someting give way in her jaw, then something else imploded. Must've been her nose. Crimson spattered Ofdensen's normally suave, sleek face, now twisted into a rictus of rage. He'd never been so horribly violated and humbled in his whole life, he'd prided himself on his intellect and control only have it brushed aside by this crazy bitch. Lila was seeing stars by now and knew if she didn't do something and fast, she'd be a freshly fucked, freshly killed corpse in a matter of seconds. She reached into her belt pocket and pulled out a throwing star, knowing she couldn't throw it, but she opened a nice tear across the man's cheek. It gave her enough precious seconds to squirm out of his grip, and she made for the door. Klokateers entered from that entrance, looking from a beaten, bloody Ofdensen to a naked (well, except for belt and boots) blonde woman, and took after her.

Screaming her frustration and fear she darted out the other door, down a tiny passageway. She heard Ofdensen yelling "Get her! Kill her!" from the room behind, and that spurred her on. Her face ached something terrible, it was already swelling and throbbing. She heard other footsteps, more of those damned hoodies. Ah, a storage room of some sort, she thought to herself, ducking in it and pressing what she thought was a lock button.

Sadly, it wasn't. It was an emergency maintenance pressure lock exit, and she'd activated the countdown sequence. "No! NO!," she cried. Ofdensen's face appeared in the tiny window, his face still bleeding. "End of the line, bitch," he sneered at her. "I could have one of the maintenance crew catch you when you're ejected into space, provided you tell me who you're working for."

"Fuck you, I'll tell you nothing!," she hissed.

"Suit yourself," he sniffed, wiping his wounded face with a handkerchief. The wall console continued its countdown, and Lila took a deep breath right before the outer hatch opened, the vacuum sucking her into space.

"That was...rather brutal," Ofdensen observed. "You," he barked at the closest Klokateer. "Have scans done of every level, send teams out to sweep everything. Nothing must be left untouched, I'm sure there's more of these crazy succubus's aboard. Radio the other modules, put them on full alert. Nothing will stop this concert from happening."

"Yes, sir!"

Someone else watched the lady be jettisoned into space, and made a decision.

"Holy fuck," breathed Nathan. "What happened to YOU?"

The manager looked the worse for wear with his garments hanging off him in shreds, bleeding from his side and face with more blood liberally splattered all over him. "Get the rest of the guys, Nathan," Off tells him in a tone which brooked no disobedience.

"Uhh," went Nathan, who'd been applying himself alone with gusto to the extensive liquor collection they'd brought with them. He still hadn't spoke to anybody since the big shit-hittin-the-fan-o-thon earlier, and was a bit depressed. "Ok."

"We're on high alert, the rocket's been infiltrated and we need to have an emergency safety briefing."

"In--infil--wha?"

"We've got intruders, Nathan."

"Oh. Shit." He took out his Dethphone and called the others. Pickles wasn't answering so he rang Judy reluctantly and asked her to get him. She grudgingly agreed.

The young woman left Toki in his room hugging his Deddy bear and cursing under her breath. She'd almost had him convinced Nathan didn't totally hate him and was close to the point of being able to talk to her father without losing it when the oaf calls her. Oh well, something weird was going on in this rocketship it sounds like, the said to herself. Fuck. How did things get so fucked up?

"Important announcement," came a computerized female voice over the intercom. "We'll be entering lunar orbit in one hour, in which time we will orbit the moon until we reach coordinates Judy's Totally Awesome Moon Plots of Metal and Guts. Thank you."

Pickles rolled over, content in his drunken stupor. In the interim few hours since Nathan's latest meltdown Pickles had drank, and smoked, and drank, and smoked some more. Something made him twitch and open bleary eyes, glanced over at the nude, darkhaired, curvy form next to him, and smiled. He must've been having a great time. Too bad he didn't remember much of it. What the hell was that?

bang bang bang "Pickles? You in there?" bang bang

"Wha-what? Who's there?," he called, dumping himself unceremoniously out of bed, taking the sheets with him, which revealed another body that had been nestled on the other side of him. Really the only thing different about this one, was that it was a young man. Pickles rubbed his head...hooo-weee that was some good shit he'd been smoking. Or snorting. Or something. He pulled on some pajama bottoms and staggered to the door. "Comin," he said.

"Wha's that?," the female said, smacking lips smeared with lipstick.

"What's goin on?," the guy said, yawning. Both he and the woman were uncannily gorgeous, in that Hollywood, plastic sort of way.

"Shuddup, I'm gonna find out," Pickles snaps back, then opens the door. Jeesh you can't get away from hangers-on even in outer space.

"Pickles everyone's tryin' to get ahold o' you," Judy says breathlessly, her Southern twang becoming more evident as her distress level rose. "Something's wrong cause Ofdensen's in an uproar and wants y'all for some meeting."

"Ok, ok," he placated her, hands outraised. "Lemme get dressed and I'll be right there."

"Could I borrow that Zeppelin bong?," she asked, giving her puppy-dog eyes expression. "While you're gone?"

"I guess..."

"Yay!," she dashed forward to grab it off the dresser, and saw the other occupants.

"You comin' to play too, sweetie?," the young black-haired man asked, blinking his impossibly blue eyes.

"Aw, Gahd no!," interruptied Pickles, aghast. "She's my adopted daughter!"

"Well if you have to go she could stay with us," the woman suggested, sitting up and jutting her too-round breasts out.

"Go on an' get outta here!," the drummer shouted at them. "Just go!"

"Holy mother of God, I don't think I can even express how traumatized I am right now," Judy says, clutching the bong.

"We'll talk about this later, ok? I thought you mighta already knew...I mean, the rest know but nobody ever says anything," Pickles babbled. "It's like out of sight out of mind."

"But Uncle Pickles, why'd you never tell _me? _I've hardly seen you with anyone at all."

"Dood, I ain't gettin any younger, y'know? I take any opportunity I can get." He threw on a shirt and headed out the door, Judy on his heels. "Guess I'm a bigger man-whore than Skwisgaar, huh?"

"I don't think you're a man-whore," Judy says quietly.

"You don't?," he turned to her in surprise.

"No," she asserts. "But you need to tell me where you find those pretty boys," she grinned.


	9. Lunar Metalocalypse: the Beginning

Toki had made his way to the conference room Judy could see, and you couldn't mistake his tired, red-rimmed eyes. Pickles took his customary seat, and the girl sat beside him, gaping at Ofdensen's appearance. "Ah, this is a band meeting, Miss Judy," the businessman says softly. "If you wouldn't mind waiting--"

"Yes, I would," she cut him off, jutting her chin out in fair imitation of Nathan. "I'm a part of this family, he's my father, and anything that concerns him concerns me."

"Very well," he acceded, and proceeded to inform them of the recent events and general situation (he did leave some specifics out, for his dignity, of course). "In closing, I think it would be a good idea to not be alone until after the concert, and always stay in contact with each other. We are on high alert status, so keep your eyes open for anything. And don't do anything to each other before the show is over. Please."

They all grunted their assent, paying close attention for once. Maybe they'd seen one too many Alien movies. Ofdensen started to rise from his chair, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Skwisgaar, who was the closest, caught him in his long arms before he hit the floor. "Thor's dick, he's goings into coma like Toki or somethings."

"He's not eat too much candies," protested Toki. "He's been beatens up like a bunch of ninjas and bears got hold of hims."

"Get him to the sick bay!," cries Judy. At her raised voice some employees ran into the room, and immediately removed Ofdensen to the onboard infirmary. What would they do against an unknown enemy without him?

"Scho what's everyone'sh major malfunkschion?," Murderface asked, and got a roomful of scowls for his trouble.

"Dumb-dick there thinks he wants my daughter," Nathan answers sourly.

"Nathan's been means to me all day," pouted Toki.

"Will you guys just stop it?," demanded Katrina, who'd also insisted on being present.

"And you," he turned to the blue-haired woman. "Don't get me started on you. Kissing Mr. Cornrow there. What was all that 'you're a good-lookin guy' stuff?"

"You gotta be kidding me!," she sputtered amidst everyone's eyes becoming saucers. "You were the one who said I wasn't your girlfriend, remember? I can kiss who I damn well please!"

"Well that was before the tango in the sheets!"

Uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"Huh," Judy crossed her arms. "Looks like somebody else besides me, Toki and Pickles has been pretty busy."

"Am I the onlys ones who feels like he missings something?," asked Skwisgaar idly.

"Damn women and their feminine wiles!," shouts Murderface. "Why do we want them sho?"

"They are the demons of the nights, " sighs Toki. "Beautifiuls, dangeromous, and uttersly desirable."

"Damn Toki," said Judy, astonished. "That was like poetry. Even though it was directed at me."

"So, uh, do I gets a turn on the Katrina ride?," asked Skwisgaar, deadpan.

"No," Nathan and Katrina say in unison.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick-tock goes the Dethklok. Our intrepid protagonists sat staring at each other as the Dethrocket orbited Earth's lone natural satellite (that's the Moon, by the way). They all decided to visit the CFO who was resting in a hospital bed, feeling rather groggy. Apparently the whopping exposure he had with the Cupid's Dust had unforeseen side effects, not counting the massive fight he'd been in. Katrina squeezed his hand and the guys scrounged up enough sympathy to offer encouraging words, and Judy bent to kiss one of the few unbattered spots on his face when he glanced up at her and grinned weakly.

"Thank you...Judy..," he said feebly. "And thank you, guys. Very kind of you." He was going in and out of coherence. "I love you, Judy," he murmured. "I wish it had been you...not her...ahhh...," and then he was out again.

Nathan felt too sorry for Ofdensen at the moment to consider breaking him in half, so he simply grunted and walked off. Judy, however, was shaken with the manager's words. What did he mean by that? Toki looked stricken. Murderface seemed merely amused and Skwisgaar let out a signature "Pffffft."

"Who you plannin on stabbing with that?," the bassist pointed at Judy's hip, indicating the broadsword he'd given her as a graduation gift.

"You never know when you may need a sword," she winked.

"We've decided you girls are gonna stay backstage with the DethSquad guards," Nathan told Katrina and Judy.

"That's what we had told you were were gonna do, to be safe," Katrina rolled her dark brown eyes.

"Oh yeah? Huh."

"Dad?"

"Have a good show. And be careful."

"Thanks," his expression softened. "Uh, Judy, I just wanna say I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I don't mean to treat you like a little kid, but I'm still trying at this whole fatherhood thing. Oh, and I take back what I said to you, Toki. I--uh...guess I'd much rather have you bangin my girl than some dumb regular jackoff. Whew. There. NOW SOMEBODY GET ME A MOTHERFUCKIN BEER BEFORE I START KILLIN PEOPLE WITH MY BARE HANDS! Hey. YOU! Jackoff!"

The hooded employee looked up, startled.

"Get me ten beers, a bottle of Jameson's Irish whiskey, and a bologna sandwich."

Judy smiled at her father.

Pickles saw his opportunity after the frontman down half the bottle in one gulp. "You still mad at me for kissin Katrina?"

"Nah. Only she didn't do it quite right. Let ME show ya." Then he grabbed Pickles, dipped him, crushing the small man to his massive chest, and laid a huge smooch on him. "There ya go. That one was free, the next one you gotta pay. C'mere, toots," then it was Katrina's turn, leaving both her and the red-haired drummer looking the worse for wear.

"Shtay away from me!," Murderface croaked, stepping away.

Pickles' face was almost as red as his dreadlocks. Nathan could still be heard barking orders and growling as he entered the stage area. It was time. They were going to do it: a kickass metal concert on the Moon.

With a huge motherfuckin laser light show.

The band were set up in a airtight dome on a raised platform which looked like huge bones, surrounded by massive experimental Russian lasers, and in perfect view of the fan modules dipping in low orbit. They split apart and rearranged like massive Transformers to give the lucky audience the ultimate experience. Amps and speakers floated about, guaranteed to eradicate with sonic punishment any sort of life in the next several planets over.

The Lunar Metalocalypse had begun.


	10. Lunar Metalocalypse: Holy Shit

The lead singer of Dethklok was finishing his bologna sandwich as they all took their places before the lights went on, took another pull of beer, then tossed it aside. A long-suffering housekeeping hoodie snatched it immediately and took it to disposal. The fan modules' thrusters kept them in position for ultimate metal witnessing action. Five women took deep breaths and crept closer. A dozen men and women amongst the few VIP fans allowed inside the dome readied weapons. An 18 year old girl was hoping her father and would-be lover remained safe. Hundreds of fans in orbit waited in...anticipation.

A certain manager got out of his hospital bed and went to a telescreen, ignoring doctors' protests.

Katrina was waiting with Judy backstage, butterflies in her stomach and dread in her heart. "Miss Tate?," asked a Klokateer.

"Yes?"

"Sorry for intruding, but Master Ofdensen wants urgently to speak with you," the hooded employee informs her. He leads her, curious, to a viewscreen.

On it was the bruised face of Ofdensen, intent and sharp again. "Miss Tate, sorry to bother you," he said, voice tired but all business. Nurses could be heard chastising him and telling him not to exert himself. He shot them a feral glance that shut them up. "I still don't have the physician's permission to leave the sick bay yet, and I'm still having trouble staying focused for long. This is important; I need to ask you something. I need you to fill in for me today--you know someone has to oversee things down there. You have their best interests at heart, like I do."

The woman's dark eyes widened. "What? Why me?"

"There's no one else. In my ambition I've made sure of that," he said bitterly. "No rivals. But you know them, Katrina. They trust you. And I trust you. I'm coming down there as soon as I can, but you must keep them safe and alive. Can you do that for me? Please?"

Her mouth closed with a snap, in growing determination. "I'll do it. God help me, I'll do what you ask. Oh, and Charles?"

"Yes?"

"You owe me. Big time."

His face didn't change, but a mirthful twinkle came to his grey eyes. "Then I am in your debt. Don't let me down. I've already given the orders for everyone to obey you." He switched off.

Squaring her narrow shoulders she posted guards at strategic points around the stage and backstage area, and called up schematics of the dome and readouts of the security cameras. Judy didn't let her out of her sight, sticking close to the older woman like a shadow. The teen was dressed in tall boots, tight jeans and a black and silver corset with a tiny blue shirt tied over it, her shoulder-length raven hair hanging loose. The other woman was more conservatively dressed in a pantsuit combo, blue hair up in a ponytail. She appeared, in fact, like a good counterpart to Ofdensen.

The lights came on, the lasers started up, and the audience let out a rousing cheer. Dethklok appeared like magic in their respective places, and they were dressed for the occasion: the Scandinavians were wearing their Space Viking Helmets complete with horns, Murderface was a medieval helmet with the visor flipped up, Pickles was wearing a Space Gladiator helmet, with a plume of red hair that matched his own gracing the top of it, and Nathan was wearing some 1940's goggles and gas mask, looking like some secondary character from Star Wars.

"Hello all you dumb-dicks and jackoffs!," Nathan roared. "We decided to come to outer space! We came, we saw, we fucked it like a ten cent whore!" And they slammed into the intro song, causing the fans to roar their approval. Then followed 'Thunderhorse,' 'Face-butter on My Fist,' and then 'Castratikron.' Skwisgaar started a blistering solo on the fly, then Pickles came crashing in like a machine gun at a  
Tupperware party, then the others joined in.

The Succuboso Squad rushed the guards nearest the left stage entrance, tasering and shooting Klokateers aplenty.

The ADK's, who'd been raising their weapons to take out Dethklok, watched in surprise and dismay as Lavena and her girls tore into hoodies galore. The young blond leader Dennis gave the signal for them to wait for the time being, and to move closer. A blonde woman, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, followed behind him. She wanted to let her Sister know she was all right.

Judy dashed toward the commotion, Katrina shouting after her to keep close and out of trouble.

No chance of that, not with Judy Explosion on the case.

The young woman accosted a petite black-haired lady dressed in some sort of tight-fitting outfit. "Stop!," barked Judy, surprised at the tone of command in her youthful voice. The intruder turned to her, sneering.

"Stay out of the way, child," snarled Lavena in her rolling accent.

In one quick, smooth move the girl unsheathed the sword, holding it to the shorter woman's neck. "I said, hold it."

Gripping a sword taken from a Klokateer, Lavena's black eyes glared up at Judy. "You sure you want to do that?" Judy nodded.

"Hyah!," shrieked Lavena, slicing at the girl's midsection. Judy dodged it, blocking a lunge from her opponent, stepping back in a classic defensive posture. The girl was tall and had filled out, no longer gawky, and she had her father's natural muscularity. Lavena was petite but looked dangerous, having the air of gracefulness and swiftness to her precise movements.

"So you know something about the blade," sniffs the agent.

"Ofdensen's been teaching me. Plus I've had martial arts and self-defense. And that's my dad you're fucking with."

"Ahhh," breathed Lavena. "I see it now. Too bad I have to kill Nathan Explosion's daughter," she pressed the attack on Judy, pushing the young woman back.

Dennis decided it was time to just kill everybody within reach and his people started spraying people with bullets and explosives. Katrina hit the band alarm button, and trapdoors opened under the members of Dethklok, whisking them out of harm's way. Then she ran to where she'd last seen Judy and gasped in horror to see her locked in sword combat with an assassin. People were fighting, and a blond kid came running up with a gun in his hands. Having never even spanked her dogs for anything, being gently bred and college educated, and of artistic bent, she was at a loss of what to do. Something snapped inside her, and she grabbed a piece of scaffolding and brained the young man with it, feeling the sickening jar of metal hitting bone and flesh. Blood spattered her arms and hands, and collected in a pool around his head where he fell. "Judy! WE'RE GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!," Katrina yelled at her. Explosions rocked the dome as all Hell broke loose.

A blonde woman came up behind the fallen man, gun levelled at Katrina's heart. "Sister!," she exclaimed.

Lavena's head snapped around. "Little Sister! You're alive! Kill that tall bitch and help me with this little girl." Just then members of the elite DethSquad came to their aid.

"Little girl _this_," snarled Judy, lunging forward. Her heavy blade went through the smaller woman's hip, striking the hipbone. Screaming in pain Lavena retaliates, slashing wildly at the girl's arm, opening a deep gash in Judy's shoulder. Both women bellowed in anger and agony. Lila aimed at Judy, and mustering all her fortitude Katrina rushed her, swinging the jagged piece of metal in her bony hands like a baseball bat. She caught the blonde in the chin, scarlet spraying in an arc, her already-ruined face whipping back from the impact.

"Judy, we're getting the Hell outta here, NOW!," Katrina shouted, grabbing the younger woman by her uninjured arm and dragging her after her.

"She'll get away!," Judy protested.

"You'll be killed!," Katrina snapped back, pulling her along the security passage.

Whizzing through the emergency tubes Nathan whipped out his personal voice recorder. "New idea for a song title," he spoke into it. "Blood and Guts on the Bio-dome." He put that away and got out his Dethphone. "Yeah, hi. Is Judy with you? Cool. Guess we're all meeting back at the Dethrocket. Whaddya mean, you're busy? Oh. Ok then. See ya soon. Bye," he slapped the phone off.

The girls sounded a bit excited. Huh.

According to the evacuation plan they were soon at the base of the bio-dome platform, racing for their Penta-pods to make their escape to the rocket.

"Where's the girls?," puffed Skwisgaar as they ran.

"They're ok, they're gonna be at the rocket soon," answered Nathan.

"Toki," the Swede then says. "I wish you would STOP COPIES ME!"

"I am not!," countered the Norwegian. They were all still wearing their stage helmets/masks. "I is a Space Viking too!"

"Pfffft," the handsome, prima donna lead guitarist scoffs. "They wouldn'ts lets you in Valhalla. Yous a pussy."

"Why is everyones so means to me today?," Toki whines. They reached the docking bay and pushed the lever to activate the pods. Nothing happened.

"Uh oh," Pickles went.

"What the hell's wrong with it?," demanded Murderface, beating his fists against the hatch.

They tried again. Still nothing.

"Ohhh shit," swore Nathan in a rumble.

"What'll we do??," Pickles started to panic.

"Well I gotta pisssh," lisps the mustachioed bassist, unzipping right there.

"I don't think now is the times for that," said Toki.

Murderface emptied his bladder right on a control panel, which somehow activated the Penta-pods. The hatches slid open, all lights on. "Please enter your vehicle now," came a calm, female computer voice over the speakers.

"Bwell," said Skwisgaar. "How do you likes that?" Doffing their helmets they stepped into the tiny escape vehicles.

"VALHALLA I AM COMING!," screamed Toki as it blasted off.

"PIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!," went Murderface.

"I HATE YOU MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM," said Skwisgaar.

Nathan and Pickles simply screamed bloody murder.

The Succoboso Squad and the Anti-Dethklok League initially fought each other over their differing plans for Dethklok, but the survivors decided to concentrate their efforts. Members of each commendeered the VIP fan shuttle, thankfully devoid of innocent fans, and others infiltrated the DethRocket. ADK's were waiting on Judy and Katrina when they boarded, the teen holding her wounded arm, blood still trickling down her arm. She'd shed the blue outer shirt and Katrina had tied it around the gash in a makeshift bandage.

Judy still had her broadsword and took an offensive stance, Katrina with her mouth open wondering if she was going to get out of this alive, when a slender streak attacked the enemies, scattering them. The girls took the opportunity to grab tasers and let loose on the ADK's. It was then they noticed who had come to their rescue--a pajama and robe-clad Ofdensen.

"Charlie!," cried Judy, jumping into his arms. Still wobbly himself he almost fell over, she outweighed him by a dozen pounds or so.

"I see you gals are safe," he observed, trying to hold onto his businesslike attitude. "You're bleeding, are you all right?"

"It's just a cut, I'm fine. Are you sure you're ok to be running around?"

"I have to look out for my boys," he says, then glances at Katrina. "Are you hurt?"

"Fine, Charles, just scared shitless."

"You've done a splendid job so far; Dethklok is safely aboard and we're heading back for Earth. Ever thought about...being my assistant?"

"Fuck, no!"

Nathan was in front as they entered the ship and were heading for the conference room when a black-clad streak bowled him over. It was an enraged, bleeding, limping Lavena who pulled a strange-looking weapon from her back. It was designed to elecrocute him and take a sample of his sperm. Two other women covered her on either side, bringing the other members up short. "Leaves him alone!," shouted Toki, bum-rushing the woman on the left. She let loose with some Cupid's Dust, leaving him stumbling and coughing. The other members of Dethklok came to his aid, pummeling the woman mercilessly into unconsciousness before turning on the other one who turned tail and skidaddled. "Get this crazy bitch offa me!," cried Nathan, grappling with the assassin. Before they could reach her she threw a smokescreen pellet ninja-style and was gone, in which direction they had no idea.


	11. Lunar Metalocalypse: Toki Loses It

All of a sudden the ship lurched, shuddered, as if being struck. The members of Dethklok stumbled and groggy Toki fell, moaning. Nathan yanked him upright and half-pulled, half-carried him along. "Where is everyone?," grumbled the black-haired singer. Pickles got his Dethphone and dialed frantically. "Hey! Off? Oh, hi Katrina. Where are you at? What's goin on?" Another impact, jerking the rocket again, sparks flying from panels and the lights flickering on and off. "Yeah, we're goin to the conference room. I think," Pickles went on. "If I get Nat'an back to ya do I get another kiss? Aww. She hung up on me."

"Dammit why don't they have teleporters yet?," Murderface complained. "Why hashn't somebody done that already?"

"I don't feels so goods," Toki groaned. "I tink the ships going backs and forths is doings it."

"That assashin chick mushta poisoned him," said Murderface.

"It's the stuffs they used on Ofdensen, remembers?," observed Skwisgaar, making sense for once. The lead guitarist got on the other side of the wobbling Norwegian, putting Toki's arm around his neck. Shouts, shots and more noise echoed down the corridor behind them; they'd better get going or they'd be caught in it. "Comes on, Tokis. You hangs in there," encouraged the blond man, causing Nathan to raise a heavy black eyebrow at him.

As they semi-ran, semi-staggered along Toki rubbed his innocent face on the Swede's shoulder. "Skwisgaar," he said, sounding like he was talking through a tunnel with cotton-mouth. "I tells you someting. I don't hates you. I nevers did."

"Not now, Toki," admonished Skwisgaar. "We's in a hurrys."

"No really, Skwisgaar. I never hates you. I thoughted you hates me. Never knowings why you woulds hates me, when I all do's is looks up to yous."

"Bwell...," his face flushed, his pale complexion unable to hide it. "I don't hates you Toki." Jeez was that damn dust a truth serum, too? What else would come out of that childish guitarist's mouth?

"I knows, Skwisgaar. You do cares abouts me." The others were silent, embarrassed and uncomfortable from this display of emotion between bandmates.

"Oh gods, Toki. Just shuts up!"

"That's okays," Toki sighs cheerfully, resting his light-brown-haired head on Skwisgaar's bony shoulder. "I knows the truths now. We is like...Scandinavians metal brothers-in-arms."

"All right, we're leavings him," Skwisgaar made as if to drop him.

"No we're not leaving him," barked Nathan. "Now come on. Toki, shut up."

"I loves you too, Nathans. Weeee!"

"Jesus, what's in that dust?," wondered Pickles. He kinda wanted to try some; he'd try anything once, twice if it was good.

"And I loves Pickle...and Moiderface, and Ofdensen, and specially Judy...," he hiccupped.

"Toki, SHUT UP!," roared Nathan.

Toki giggled but said no more.

At last they neared the conference room, noting the place was crawing with Klokateers hell-bent on their masters' safety. Two anxious figures ran to greet them.

"It's the girls!," Pickles was relieved.

Toki lifted his head and his jaw dropped. He'd never seen two such gorgeous female creatures in his whole life. "Wowee," he squealed, the Cupid's Dust still playing havoc in his system. Judy kissed her father's scraggly cheek then turned to Toki, her expression one of concern. "Toki, what's wrong?"

"It's that assassin's powder," answers Pickles.

"Oh my. Judys--your tits are--awesome!," he declared, staring at her bosom. He wanted to bury his face in them.

"Toki!," scolded Katrina and Judy together.

"What? I feels wierds..ugh..."

"Aw, he's gonna puke," groaned Nathan.

They threw open the door to the conference room which was crawling with Klokateers, and Toki promptly emptied his stomach's contents on Ofdensen's fuzzy slippers. The remains of a lot of candy and a pickled herring sandwich graced the floor, which the rest of the group avoided. Ofdensen rubbed his temples, sat down at a chair, and counted to twenty. Then he counted to fifty. Finally he opened his eyes and asked, almost bemusedly, "What's up with Toki?"

"That stuff one of the psycho bitches sprayed you with," Judy replies.

"I see. Better get him to the sick bay."


	12. Toki Gets It

Judy and Toki were hustled to the infirmary after Nathan discovered she'd been hurt, and he proceeded to have one 'big hairy conniption fit' as Judy characterized it. Chairs and anything not bolted down, along with other curses and invective, flew as he vented his outrage that some insane broad stabbed his little girl etc etc. Throughout the fireworks Ofdensen sat, his lips a thin hard line across his face, and didn't even flinch.

"The ADK's are firing rockets at us!," pronounced Katrina at a computer console. "Evasive maneuvers, NOW!," she commanded the pilots. "Get us back to Earth, pronto!" That was the source of the bumpy ride, it seems. Ofdensen called up the defense schematics and set loose missles of their own at their attackers, who were in the VIP fan shuttle.

"They're utilizing some sort of weaponry they've brought on board with them," Ofdensen says dryly. "Get the rest of the fans to safety, Katrina."

"Already done it, Charles m'boy. Hey...wait a minute," interjects Katrina. "Can we get control of those Russian lasers?"

"With a manuel override," Ofdensen answers, glancing at the tall, slender woman intent at her screen. "But they're moving pretty fast."

"Get me control and I'll worry about them."

Shrugging, the manager acquiesces and hands over the controls to her. Down below on the Moon's surface the huge lasers stirred back to life, swung about and let forth their deadly beams. The ADK's noticed the new element and took evasive action, pelting the DethRocket with more ballistics. Katrina swung the lasers around again and sliced the tail end off the shuttle, sending the craft careening out of control. The guys cheered, Nathan asking her "How'd you get 'em? They were fast."

"I play a lot of video games with my son. He loves them," she replied.

"You have a son?," Nathan's mouth dropped open.

"Yeah, his name is Sam, he's ten. If we get out of this alive I want you to meet him."

"I didn't know you had a kid. How old _are_ you?," Nathan asks.

"Don't you know you never ask a lady her age? I'm 32, Mr. Nosypants," she pertly responds. "You never asked about my life."

Toki opened his large blue eyes and blinked against the harsh clinical light. He felt light-headed and was a bit disoriented at first, then realized he was at sick bay. A youthful face bent over him, grinning. "Judys!," he exclaims. "Whats happeneds?"

"You got sprayed with that Cupid's Dust," she answered him. "Then you went crazy and talked all sorts of shit. Well, crazier than usual."

"I still feels a little weirds," Toki said. "But better now. Are you okays? You was bleedings!"

"Yeah, they sewed my arm up and gave me some painkillers so I'm good."

"Uugh they gots me in ones of those hospital gown," the rhythm guitarist wrinkles his nose. "Now my butss hang out!," he got up and demonstrated, waggling his butt at her.

"Oh mah God, Toki," she laughted, a bit embarrassed.

"Moiderface would like this, it's freeballing to de max," he chuckles.

A nurse walks in, intending to check on the patient to see said patient wiggling his bare posterior at Judy. "Oh, hi there," the teen says sheepishly. "Toki, stop that!"

"Huh? Oh," he whirls around quickly, blushing.

"It looks like Mr. Wartooth is feeling better," the Nurse observes, directing him to sit down so she could check his vitals.

"My butts is gettings cold," he complains. "And I wants a lollipops."

"We'll bring your clothes to you very soon, Mr. Wartooth," the nurse explains to him. "You didn't get as big a dose as Mr. Ofdensen did, and it seems like your signs are nearly normal. Just wait right here and I'll get the doctor to sign off on your chart."

"I don't likes this thing," he squirmed in the gown. "Boy, I really hates it. Mights as wells be nekkids in dis thing!" Without further ado he shucks it off and pokes around the room for something else to put on. He unrolled the paper on the examination table and wrapped it around himself.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?," Judy squealed at him, horrified. "That stuffy nurse is gonna thing you're crazy then you'll never be outta the hospital! Stop that!"

"Chills out, Judys," he tells her. "You sees me in the hot tubs all ze time!" He posed with the paper wrapped around his middle, looking like a wrinkled diaper/loin cloth thing.

Yes but not like this, she says to herself. He looked totally comical and ridiculous and hot and seductive and childlike and careless all at the same time. My Lord, she went on, he's fuckin' ripped. Oh boy, he was completely clueless how chiselled and delicous he was! She wondered if she'd got hold of some Cupid's Dust, and her cheeks reddened. She never thought it could possibly be adolescent hormones. "Put that gown back on!," she commanded in a Nathanesque growl.

He turned to her with a hurt expression on his face. "Everyone's mads at me todays," he pouted. "What the fucks. I just tries to has good time. You always laughs before."

"Ohh, Toki, no. I didn't mean it that way. It's just that...if you don't put something on right now I think I...might just molest you." She blushed furiously.

He blinked at her. "Really?," he said, just like a puppy dog that'd been invited to play in the yard. "You think I'm...um, how you says it? Hot?" That was a new concept to him. Mostly groupies and models passed him over for Skwisgaar or hell, any of the other guys, thinking he was crazy, too eccentric, retarded, or all of the above. Occasionally one would deign to talk to him, then enjoy some fun in the sheets, but never wanted to hang out, pal around, play video games, or talk about anything fun with him. And none of them ever told him they thought he was sexy.

"No no no, you stay over there, mister," she backed away from him. He advanced on her, grinning. "This isn't the place--"

"You means it? You think I'm--" and then he let fly with a cascade of Norwegian which she didn't understand, some of it possibly obscene.

"Toki, shut up. Dammit shut yer pie hole!," and she gave up all hope of control and brought her lips to his, enjoying the tingle it gave her right down to her toes. Her legs felt like jelly and her heart was thudding in her ribcage so fast...she pulled him to her. He smiled and said something else to her, softly and in Norwegian.

"I told you to shut up."

A few minutes later the nurse, carrying the charts and a bag of Toki's effects, entered the room, and was too shocked to utter a sound. She saw Toki's rear again, only this time around his waist two muscular, well-shaped female legs were wrapped. Wow. Right there on the examination table. Well, the nurse thought, guess he doesn't need these right now--she put the chart and clothes and lollipop on the nearest counter and let herself quietly out of the room. Was that LAUGHING she was hearing? They were talking and laughing...and having sex...and arguing all at once. She could hear Toki speaking in a different language and the girl telling him to shut up. That's it, she said to herself. She's getting out of nursing and taking up gardening!


	13. End?

I would like to thank everyone who commented, hope you've been enjoyin reading these as much as I do writin em. I guess this is it for right now, the story seems to have shot its wad. But I have another one brewing about Toki's childhood called TokiKlok. Weeee!

* * *

They splashed down in the mid-Atlantic, the DethSub picking them up with little fuss. Bad news was that the damaged shuttle wasn't turning up anywere, as wreckage or otherwise. Some of the Anti-Dethklok league may have survived, along with the Succuboso Squad, but their excursion to the Moon was on the whole successful.

Everyone noticed how giggly and happy Toki and Judy were, and it wasn't lost on Nathan, who sat scowling, or Ofdensen, who left the room quietly. The Cupid's Dust had made him realize...how much he loved Judy. Damn. He wanted a girl young enough to be his daughter, one he could never have. Well, at least it was simple, naieve Toki she likes, it could be a lot worse. Who knows, though, she's young, and he had plenty of time. He could wait.

"Why do people call you Tonto?," Katrina asked Nathan, genuinely curious.

"Cause of his questionable ancestry," Pickles piped up.

"How do you mean?"

"His people come from a savage South American tribe who get high on this shit called Yopo," Pickles tells her.

"Sweet," she says. Nathan grunts.


End file.
